


Connection

by Truthwatcher_Vez



Series: Chasms Between [2]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truthwatcher_Vez/pseuds/Truthwatcher_Vez
Summary: Goodbyes are hard, especially when so many words are left unsaid.
Relationships: Renarin Kholin/Rlain
Series: Chasms Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140251
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Words of Radiance and Rhythm of War. Takes place just before chapter 27 of Rhythm of War. Contains non-canon elements and speculation, and maybe channels a bit of the version of Renarin from The Way of Kings Prime. Ralf Melevo’s amazing fanart of Rlain is my head-canon for forever. This fic is a stand-alone sequel to “Hidden Gems”. Constructive feedback welcomed.

Rlain had always enjoyed the early morning, the quiet time just after the sun had breached the horizon and bathed the world in golden light. His boots raised quiet puffs of dry dust as he walked the stone paths between the rockbud beds, checking on the progress of the plants and attuned to the Rhythm of Peace. These fields were on the tiered plates that projected out from the base of Urithiru and the atmosphere was thin and arid. Many of the clouds didn’t make it this high. Fortunately, the stormwardens predicted that the next highstorm would reach the correct altitude to wash over these fields. It would be nice to take a break from irrigating, for a while.

Rlain had never wanted to be a farmer, for all that so many of his early memories were tied to the land. He’d learned the correct rhythms to help each kind of plant grow, helping his father in the fields. His mother had taught him all of the songs about lifespren and the use of gems combined with rhythms to influence the growth of crops. In later years she’d been one of Venli’s scholars, but her true passion had always been collecting and preparing wild foods and medicines. He hummed to the Rhythm of Remembrance. He knew that he had been a disappointment to them, when the war started and he’d pledged his service to Eshonai’s cause. It was not the life that they had wanted for him, but they’d ultimately failed to stop him from choosing his own path.

They had stayed in Narak, and had perished in the Everstorm with all of the others. Now Rlain would never have the chance to thank them for their teaching, or to make amends for the way they had parted.

He paused next to a newer bed, with green shoots just starting to emerge from the seed coats that had been pasted to the surface of the mineral-rich crem. Iron posts with stormlight-filled emeralds were spaced several paces apart, and drums were still set up around the bed as a reminder of yesterday’s labor. It was too soon to tell if their work was having an impact, but based on the progress of the other crops, Rlain had hope.

The ardents would be working here again today. Perhaps Ardent Karalis would be absent for a change. He didn’t want to be uncharitable, but the young ardent tried his patience.

 _“I wish I could be a Parshendi,”_ she’d said yesterday.

_“Listener is the term my people prefer to use.”_

_“Oh. I wish I could be a listener, then. Femalen, not female. How great would that be, to be so cool, so emotionless. To be able to walk around, not caring about anyone or anything.”_

_“It… doesn’t really work that way.”_

It hadn’t been worth taking the time to explain however, because Karalis didn’t actually care. The words had just been an excuse to launch into the sordid details of the tragic break-up that had made her join the Ardentia. From the suffering looks on the faces of the other ardents in the drumming group, it wasn’t the first time they’d heard the story.

Karalis wasn’t alone in her assumptions. Rlain knew that some of it was a legacy left over from the human’s first encounters with the “parshendi”--when they’d seen the unreadable black eyes and stoic features, and had discovered that the listeners didn’t really need to move their faces to communicate. Rlain had learned to adapt to the latter during his time among the humans, to display the facial expressions that they expected. He’d tried to convey the truth about his people to those who would listen. In spite of his efforts, the idea that singers lacked emotion still persisted among the general human populace.

The human scholars were, if anything, worse. Rlain hummed to Irritation. They all had such strange misconceptions about the basic singer forms. It was true that the forms allowed one to… compartmentalize. Fighting could be separated from child-rearing, procreation from the day-to-day work that was necessary for survival. Each form specialized in certain traits and characteristics over others. However, the scholars only saw the form and ignored the character of the person who wore it. Rlain found it to be more than a little insulting. Workform was not just about working; nimbleform was not just about child care or art. The listeners and non-Regal singers were more than their forms. To conclude otherwise was to deny that each individual had agency, and the capacity to make their own choices.

Rlain was… feeling out of sorts today. He hadn’t been sleeping well, lately. The entire Bridge Four barracks had been abuzz with anticipation the last few days as everyone made preparations to depart for Emul. In truth, Rlain was starting to second-guess his decision to stay behind.

Restless, he made a circuit around the entirety of the new crem bed, making a determined effort to attune to Peace and leave Irritation behind. He stopped at each of the iron posts to check the emeralds for cracks. Most were fine, although he removed one from its sconce, making a mental note to fetch a replacement before the ardents arrived. All of the gems would need to be recharged with stormlight soon. It was another reason to be glad that the next highstorm would reach this place.

He came full circle around the raised bed and found himself back by the drums again. He paused there, looking out across the vacant fields, towards the Origin.

Ardent Karalis had been wrong about something else. Her careless words had implied that listeners in malen and femalen forms lacked connection. No bonds to anyone or anything. That… hit a raw nerve, and Rlain found himself attuning to Irritation all over again. Like humans, the listeners were a social, rather than a solitary species. Why else would they live in families and communities? Why else would they fight as warpairs, carry out duties as workpairs, or maintain the bond of once-mates?

Listeners were meant to form pairs. Thude and Bila had been together as an acknowledged pair for nearly half a year, before they’d decided to leave workform behind and go out in the storm together to become mates.

Rlain’s own situation was… much more complicated than theirs had been. He did his best to avoid thinking about it. The work that he was doing out in these fields gave him purpose. Better to focus his time and attention here, on the things he could actually do something about.

“Rlain!”

Rlain turned in surprise at the intrusion of a familiar voice into the early morning stillness. A figure dressed in the cobalt blue of a Bridge Four uniform was jogging towards him on the stone path that lead from the tower. It was Renarin. The listener waited as the lighteyed man pulled up beside him, his face flushed and panting to catch his breath. Had he run all the way from the entrance of the tower? Without stormlight? Rlain had wandered deep into the fields, and it was quite a distance to travel.

Rlain attuned Appreciation, following it up with a human-style welcoming smile. “You’re around early this morning,” he observed.

Renarin nodded, bracing his hands on his knees for a few moments while continuing to draw in deep breaths. After a minute he straightened up. He recovered from physical exertion faster than he used to. He’d never be as strong or fit as his older brother, but over the last year he’d put on some wiry muscle as a result of resuming shardblade training with Master Zahel and attending drill sessions with Bridge Four whenever he could.

“Father is leaving for Azir in a few hours,” Renarin said. “I’m going to be there, to transfer through the Oathgate with him, instead of following later. Because of….” He made an abortive gesture towards his own face. His futuresight. Renarin believed that his abilities helped shield others from Odium’s predictive power, working best when he stayed close to them.

Rlain had known that the armies would be departing today, deploying for the offensive in Emul. In the back of his mind, he’d understood that Renarin would be leaving as well, although he’d tried to put that out of his thoughts. Without meaning to, he found himself humming faintly to Anxiety. “It will be dangerous for you to be there, near the fighting.”

Renarin gave a little half-shrug. “Maybe. Father always assigns Radiants to duties based on where their powers will be most effective. I expect I’ll spend a lot of time helping the surgeons, well behind the safety of the coalition lines.” He paused. “Plus, you know. Truthwatcher.”

“Truthwatcher?”

Renarin’s head tilted downward in self-deprecation. “As long as we have stormlight, the surge of Progression makes us kind of indestructible.”

“Ah.” It helped, to remember that.

Renarin looked with interest at the newly-planted crem bed at Rlain’s feet. “Is that a new crop?”

“Yes. There was a shipment of crispmelon seeds brought in by that last caravan from Jah Kaved.”

“Gallant will be happy.”

Rlain attuned Confusion for a moment, before remembering. “Your father’s Ryshadium?”

“Yes. Crispmelon is his favorite. Hopefully these will be ready by the time he gets back from… from Shadesmar.”

Rlain didn’t miss the verbal stumble as Renarin said that last bit, or the brief flash of pain that lit his eyes as he looked away. Rlain knew that Renarin had had a vision, not long after the departure of the diplomatic mission to Lasting Integrity. He’d seen Adolin, outnumbered by armed assailants and badly injured, fighting alone. Renarin had been beside himself with worry about it, not daring to tell even the members of his own family. There was no easy way to reach Adolin, anyway. What good would it do if they knew?

Rlain understood more about the frequency and scope of Renarin’s foresight than anyone except Glys. Ever since the fighting in the coalition’s two-front war intensified a few months ago. That was when Rlain had first noticed the subtle changes in Renarin’s behavior--an increase in the habitual tics, a loss of focus on day-to-day tasks, and the appearance of dark circles under Renarin’s eyes from lack of sleep. Initially, Renarin had brushed off the concerned inquiries. However, as weeks passed, he showed signs of bowing under the strain of more numerous and more intense visions, and the increasing pressure of trying to navigate his strange and terrible powers alone. Rlain had pointed out then, and repeated several times since, that perhaps a person of no consequence, a common soldier without any Radiant abilities, might be someone safe to confide in when the burden of foreknowledge grew too great.

Nearly all of the people who were close to Renarin played such pivotal roles in this war. He had such a fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time, and inadvertently altering something important that would cause harm to the people he loved.

He was afraid--and yet somehow he managed to summon the strength of will to act upon the things that he saw. A quiet suggestion at a meeting. A useful item appearing when needed. A helpful anonymous message sent to a specific scribe. Renarin had accepted that it was _his actions_ , not the visions themselves, that clouded Odium’s sight.

He tried to use a delicate touch, learning from some costly mistakes in the past. He kept at it—relentless, persistent. Studying the possibilities and probabilities carefully, and attempting to make the best choices that he could.

True courage wasn’t a lack of fear. It was being terrified and yet having the resolve to take action anyway. Renarin was stronger than anyone gave him credit for—least of all himself.

“I can’t stay,” Renarin said apologetically, drawing Rlain back to the present again. He came out here sometimes in his free time, and Rlain was always glad of his help. “There are things to do, still. They’ll be looking for me.”

“I’ll walk back with you,” Rlain offered, finding himself attuned to Appreciation again. “There are charged gems back by the tower entrance. I have to pick up a replacement emerald, anyway.”

Renarin nodded once, and they fell into step, walking back along the path towards the base of the tower.

“Will you come out to watch the departure through the Oathgate?” Renarin asked, when they’d crossed most of the distance back to the tower in comfortable silence.

Regretfully, Rlain shook his head. “There’s work to be done here. The ardents will be arriving soon.” To be honest, he’d rather be out here in the fields. Best that his presence not disturb the fanfare of the proceedings. He drew attention no matter where he went in the tower, and it bothered him that even after all the time he’d spent here, he still made most of the humans around him uncomfortable.

Renarin nodded absently. “Bridge Four will notice. I’ll let everyone know that you’re busy today.” He looked away across the fields, adding more quietly, “I understand.” As if he were responding to the reasons that hadn’t been voiced aloud. He was very aware of the difficulties of Rlain’s situation--far more so than any of the other humans who lived in the tower.

Rlain knew that Renarin saw the person, not the form that he wore. Accepting him always and without hesitation. He wasn’t some abstract representation of an entire people--an enemy, an oddity, or an untrustworthy spy. To Renarin, he was simply Rlain. It was the same whenever they were able to spend a few minutes of time together. It felt wonderful and liberating to be able to exist in a space where he could relax his defenses and just be himself.

The stone pathway ended, and they halted before the closed door that led into the tower. Neither of them moved to touch the wrought iron handle of that portal, however. With all of the valuable emeralds out in these fields, there were guards posted in the hallway beyond. Instead, they faced each other awkwardly in silence for a minute. Renarin shifted uncomfortably, glancing in the direction of the risen sun. He seemed anxious about the time, but somehow still reluctant to leave.

Then abruptly he stepped forward, and before Rlain could quite comprehend what he was doing, Renarin wrapped both arms around him in a fierce embrace.

Rlain froze. The gesture was so unexpected, so startling that for a moment Rlain lost the Rhythms entirely. He stood completely motionless, hardly daring to breathe. He felt long fingers curl in the back of his uniform, the solid contact of another body radiating warmth through cloth and carapace.

Listeners were meant to form pairs.

Rlain had been so alone, for so long.

…And so, Rlain found that he couldn’t quite help himself. Moving slowly to avoid causing inadvertent distress, he allowed his own arms to slide up and enfold Renarin’s slender shoulders. He returned the embrace lightly, breathing in the clean scent of Renarin’s black and blond hair. He closed his eyes. Silently attuned his mind to the Rhythm of Longing. For a time, he allowed himself to be lost in it.

It was pure foolishness, of course. Renarin Kholin was human, a Knight Radiant, and a prince--the son of the King of Urithiru. Any connection that went deeper than friendship was impossible. Rlain doubted that he could think of someone more unattainable if he tried.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be gone,” Renarin said at last, his words seeping warmly through fabric to brush against the crest of Rlain’s shoulder. “But… I’ll miss seeing you around. Take care of yourself.”

To Rlain’s ear, the words had an odd tempo to them. Not false, just… rehearsed. Renarin’s arms tightened briefly, then loosened again. Almost as an afterthought, he awkwardly patted Rlain’s shoulder, the color high in his face as he pulled away.

“That was all Rock’s fault, by the way,” Renarin added quickly, looking down as if the rockbud plants lining the pathway were suddenly fascinating. “He said that he didn’t get to give you a proper hug before he left, and that if I got the chance, I should pass one on when I saw you. So, that was from both of us, I guess.”

It was true that Rlain had been out in these fields on the day that Rock had set off for his homeland. However, Rlain had never been hugged by Rock before. A clap on the shoulder? A slap on the back? Often. The kind of embrace Renarin had just given him? No. He realized this probably wasn’t the time to point that out.

“You take care, as well,” he managed, as he made a determined effort to attune to Peace. “You’re lucky. Most of Bridge Four is leaving for Azir with you. It’ll be lonely, here.” Yes. Lonely. Perhaps he was only just realizing how much.

Renarin nodded, looking embarrassed. He glanced up at the sky again, then reached out for the handle of the door. “Bye, Rlain,” he said softly.

“Goodbye, Renarin.”

The door clicked closed, and he was gone.

Rlain stood there, alone in the quiet of the early morning. The Rhythm of Peace gave way to Longing again. He absently touched his shoulder, as if he could recapture the sensation of quiet words spoken near his skin. He felt as if the most important piece of himself had just walked away.

_Be safe, Renarin. Return soon._


End file.
